Times, They Are a' Changing
by Gigi Jinx
Summary: Change: sometimes it is for the better; sometimes it make your heart ache. This is how future Club Penguin runs. On money, on greed. Where have the simple times gone to? Tara seems determined to do something about it, something not so wise, not so safe. TiMe distortion.
1. Chapter 1

**Good Things, They Never Last**

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_I practice my writing skills here and everywhere._

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"Couldn't you have yelled for help or something?"

This was said rather bluntly with an edge of mild accusation, although there was no hostility or anger contained within those words. The cold breeze blew past, but failed to sweep away the half-tense, half-dreamlike atmosphere between them. He stared up at the stars wordlessly, having nothing to say in response to her question. She heaved a sigh, making him turn his gaze on her.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

Sorry, he mouthed. The penguin's brow furrowed as she studied him with something akin to curiousity and bafflement as her mind joined the dots together. "You can't speak?"

He turned his face away, not looking at her, and nodded slightly, ashamed. His back was feeling numb from the cold and he couldn't help shivering.

"Ok then," the red penguin put a thoughtful flipper next to her beak. He waited for her to take her leave. There was a small zip sound, and something warm and soft was pressed against his back. He glanced at her, surprised, and dropped his gaze down to the jacket she was offering to him.

"Here, take it."

He shook his head. It was a chilly and windy night, one belonging to the long months of winter darkness, and he did not want to trouble this kind stranger or cause her to catch a cold.

"I'm not taking no for an answer, kiddo. You've been in the freezing sea for who knows how long and your feathers are damp. You'll get frostbite," she said firmly.

The female penguin shoved the warm jacket at his face.

"Put it on."

He shied away from it. A determined pout appeared on her beak.

"Look, I'm okay. I've got hundreds of jackets at home, so just take the stupid thing. My arm is getting tired."

He shook his head again. With a sudden movement, the taller penguin pushed him against the nearby wall, startling him. Their beaks were nearly touching. He looked up at her face. Her expression was one of stone-faced stubborness.

"Jacket?" She breathed. Something about this whole weird situation gave him the de ja vu. He felt like he had seen that stone-stubborn face somewhere before. Finally, after a long moment of staring deep into her eyes and unable to discover her motives, he succumbed. His head dipped into the barest of nods. The female penguin stepped back to give him space.

"Hold out your flipper," she ordered. Hesitantly he obeyed.

She carefully slipped one sleeve of the jacket on his outstretched flipper.

"Other side."

Once the jacket was zipped up snugly and the hood pulled over his head, she gave him a dry smile.

"There. Better, isn't it?"

He could only nod gratefully. Then he gestured and mouthed: who are you?

She chuckled enigmatically.

"Next time maybe."

Unable to ask more and remembering something else, he gave her a goodbye wave and waddled off.

The red penguin's eyes followed him as he headed off to the Landing Docks. Another penguin came and stood beside her.

"He's the one you're searching for, Tara?" The brown penguin asked as he also watched the young penguin disappear into the crowd.

"Most probably." Tara shrugged. "You saw the markings on his back, right? That's why I had act weird and force him to wear my jacket."

They were silent for a moment, each to their own thoughts. The brown penguin rubbed his beak playfully.

"Fudge, for a moment there, I thought you were going to lean in and smooch him senseless when you shoved him against the wall," the penguin guffawed.

"Shut your front door, Sweet2th," Tara growled and elbowed her laughing companion, "Your wild imagination's flying out."

"Aw, come on. Admit it!"

"Well," the reddie ran a tongue over her beak thoughtfully, "I was tempted for a moment. He's pretty darn cute. Had that air of innocence and the haunted eyes."

"Hah, I kneeew it! You're eeevil, Tara. Taking advantage of little boys, that's very baaad," Sweet2th bleated teasingly.

She snorted and rolled her eyes as she took out a coat from her inventory.

"One thing though," she mused as she donned her coat on, "I didn't know Felix couldn't speak."

Sweet2th sobered up.

"I don't think he's voiceless. He just doesn't want to speak."

Tara looked at him, puzzled. "What makes you think that?"

"I found out that the reason why he was staying in the sea at such a cold time was because he was forced to. There are five or so older penguins bullying him. They push him into the water and bet how long he's going stay in. And if he tries to get out, well, they beat him up," Sweet2th explained, "So he stands there in the freezing sea and bears the waves beating against his back without uttering a single sound. 'Rather die than give them the satisfaction' is probably what he thinks. The poor kid."

Tara was completely still for a second before she shoved on her shades rather roughly.

"And by holly, tonight's the last they'll ever do that," she stated darkly.

Sweet2th let out an ouch-Imma-gonna-be-feeling-sorry-for-some-pplz-soon whistle.

"Alright, evil partner," he sighed and put on his shades too.

"Time to sprinkle some 'feary dust' around."


	2. Chapter 2

**Times, They Are a' Changing**

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_A half-hearted continuation of _**Good Things, They Never Last**_, a deleted oneshot. That I slapped back on the shelf again. Meh. I beg you to review._

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Gray, gray, gray.

Gray snow, gray sea, gray sky, neon lights.

Neon lights everywhere.  
Flashing signs on buildings wink for all they are worth as they try to catch the attention of tourists milling past their eye-blinding radiance.

Through his telemodicscope, the senior penguin focuses on the City Center with a cynical eye. He takes note of the different species as he sees the group of Rockhopper penguins gathered around a tour guide, all eager to hike up the Tallest Mountain, spots Chinstrap penguins picking a fight in the corner of the street, watches a couple of Gentoos stagger drunkenly out of the Cafe.  
They must have had too much coffee.  
Here and there, the taller frames of the Emperor penguins stand out above the usual crowd waddling through the island on their sightseeing tour. And as for the native penguins? Well, they are in there somewhere, most probably working.  
Just working, only working, always working.

Above this light-splashed place of bustling activity looms the monolithic form of the Entertainment Tower with its neon outlines. Such a colorful landmark, one that symbolizes the spirit to party, to dance, to meet new friends, the essence of FUN, but to his eyes, it was the start of metro-civilization and the deal made fifteen years ago that opened Club Penguin Island to tourism.

The sight of it sickened him...

Why?

Cue the bitter laugh.

Tourism was what forced the original penguins out of their homes to make place for bigger, better buildings. It even swept the middle class and the poor penguins right off the island and dumped them on the uncomfortable artificial i-float-lands branching out from the Shore. Of course, the noble members and wealthy shop owners had it considerably easier: they just moved to the villas built on the Mountains. The economic state of the island was thrown into chaos as the rich hogged what they earned while the poor just had no way of making ends meet save for picking up the stupendous amount of litter the tourists would leave behind. His list of things that 'went wrong' can wind on and on for pages...One of the things on this list that bugged him most was this technogenius called Lazerbeam Kriller who apparently has corrupted the EPF to turn a blind eye on his shady projects.  
Rumor has it that he was working on mutant puffles.

G turns away from the window with disgust and presses a button. The shutter-blinds fall into place with a faint rustling sound.

The aged inventor sighs. Where have all the simple,good times gone, and why did it take the blue sky and sea with it, too?

Silence...

Gary closes his eyes. He isn't as young as he used to be.  
Retired, half-blind, dead for all the world cared.  
He couldn't save CP from the threat growing right beneath its beak, he wasn't a hero. Pleasant.

The sound of the elevator 'binging' alerts him to someone's arrival. He spins around to see who it is. The doors whirr open. A young red penguin steps out; she has a shrewd gleam to her narrowed, hawk-like eyes.

"Ah, Tara. What brings you here at this time of the day? The EPF could have seen you," G inquires as he studies his young relative. Her stance is tense, and her smile crooked like an evil smirk. It means that she is excited. Silly Tara. She always looked slightly angry about everything even when she was happy.

"I found him, Uncle."

"Found who?"

Tara inhales deeply, pauses to savour the moment in its glory of suspense. Eventually her beak forms a name.

"Felixofear," she breathes with a mixture of glee and awe, "The boy who can distort time."

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**A/U:**

Trying to bust my writer's block while on my quest to find a better writing style.

Wait, scratch that. Let me rephrase it:

I'm striving for improvement on the way I write so that I can actually feel enthusiastic about writing again and UPDATE.

Improvement is good, no?

Tried the method "**kill your darlings, kill your darlings, even when it breaks your egocentric little scribbler's heart, kill your darlings" -Stephen King talking about a quote? **(meaning you should get rid of the sentences you think you wrote wonderfully, but isn't helping you get your point across), and gurr, yes, I've killed quite a lot of darlings, but not all of them are dead yet...next time I will practice the "Throw your useless passive sentences out the window" stunt. And writing in present tense is a pain in the aft.

So did I improve with the pacing of the story? :'D

I wish I could lower my sudden (absurdly) high-standard expectations on writing though; it's hampering my attempt to enjoy other fanfics without losing my patience on the way the sentences are formed.

( 'Cause who am I to judge? )

Yes, I must stop blitching around and expecting too much out of everything and everyone... :/

Let's hope this kicks me out of the writer's bluesblues to 'git 'ritin' ag'in.


End file.
